


Cartography

by phalangine



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2019-01-07 21:31:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12240987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phalangine/pseuds/phalangine
Summary: Seven people Bones bones and one he doesn't (right away).





	Cartography

**Author's Note:**

> big thanks to jessicamiriamdrew for taking one for the team and reading this nonsense for me

**i. Scotty**

Scotty, unlike most of the officers, gets to know the CMO through time spent in Med Bay rather than on the bridge. Being in engineering generally puts Scotty and his people in the direct line of fire, which leads to a fair amount of injuries, which McCoy insists Medical sees to, no matter how small. As well he should.

They didn't immediately take to each other, but a passing comment from the McCoy about the kind of whisky he'd kill for opened up the way for friendly debate about various liquors. Which in turn paved the way for them to become drinking buddies.

Right now, in this bar, Scotty is a little bit in love with the man.

“Fuck vodka,” Scotty says with a vengeance. “How old do I look?”

McCoy snorts. “How Russian do you look, don't you mean?”

“Even the wee Russian doesnae drink it,” Scotty reminds him. “That stuff’s a fuckin’ weapon.”

McCoy snorts again and takes a sip of his neon pink girlie drink. That's the fun thing about McCoy. He isn't too caught up in the majesty of a good Scotch to appreciate the utility of getting hammered on drinks that are almost impossibly fruity.

“How old are you, anyway?” McCoy asks.

“It's in my file, no?”

“Mmm, probably.”

“Only probably?”

McCoy flaps a hand at him. “I'm on shore leave. I like to forget the _Enterprise_ exists.”

Scotty frowns. He loves the _Enterprise_. Why would anyone not want to remember her?

He must say as much, because McCoy laughs. “You know, if you paid half as much attention to people as you do to that ship, you'd be getting laid more.”

Scotty, who had been sipping at his drink, coughs it out and splutters. “Excuse me?”

“I'm your doctor, and unless you've been lying to me, I know you haven't been getting much- how does Jim put it? Action, Mr. Scott.” McCoy's lips turn down at the corners. “It's a damn shame, that.”

“Why’s that?” Scotty hears himself ask.

McCoy lifts a brow. “You're an engineer. I've seen firsthand how good you are with those hands of yours.”

Scotty swallows hard. The thing about McCoy is, he's a looker. Gets a lot of attention from just about everybody. And when he's in a rare good mood, he can get a little flirty. He’ll make a suggestive joke or send somebody a wink to make them laugh. That sort of thing. And it's nice to be on the receiving end of it.

But this? This is a come on. And Scotty has definitely never heard the good doctor use one of those.

“Now, Doctor, I know you're a bit of a flirt-”

McCoy gives him a flat look. “Scotty.”

“What?”

“I've been trying to flirt with you for three weeks. Would you either accept the invitation or turn me down?”

“I-” Scotty blinks. “I'm not sure I follow.”

McCoy sighs. “Mr. Scott, I’m looking to get fucked. Will you do the honors, or do I need to find someone else?”

“I'll do it!” The words are out before Scotty can think. Yes, of course there's a part of him that wants the doctor that way. But he likes them being drinking buddies, too.

“It's a one-off,” McCoy tells him, as if he'd sensed Scotty’s concern. “We’re just scratching an itch. Afterwards, we go back to normal.”

It couldn't hurt, could it?

Scotty says yes, and they quickly finish up their drinks.

They go back to Scotty’s hotel room, and no sooner has the door closed than McCoy is taking off his clothes. He isn't hurried about it. He just calmly strips down, peeling off his civilian clothes until he's down to his boxers.

Then he looks up says, “Gonna be difficult to fuck with your clothes on.”

Scotty flushes- he'd been mesmerized by the sight of McCoy getting undressed- and hurries to catch up.

By the time McCoy is tugging off his socks, Scotty is naked and, with nothing else to do, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“I think,” McCoy purrs, reaching into the pocket of his jeans, “I’d like to feel those fingers of yours inside me, Mr. Scott.”

Scotty swallows. “Aye, Doctor.”

“Leonard.” McCoy fishes out a little bottle of lube. “Not enough for you to fuck me, I'm afraid. But I'd be glad to suck you off in return.”

A shiver runs down Scotty’s spine. He's never heard McCoy talk about things like this. He always imagined it would be a bit like fucking a medical dictionary- a damn handsome dictionary, but a dictionary nonetheless.

He certainly isn't ready for McCoy to straddle him and lift his head with a finger under his chin.

“If you don't mind, I like to be kissed when I get fucked.”

Scotty nods quickly, and McCoy bends his head for a kiss. It's soft and slow, almost chaste, except the bit where McCoy still tastes like that godawful drink he'd ordered. When they break apart, McCoy smiles down at him. “I'll be wanting more of those.”

“Ye can have as many as ye like,” Scotty says, already feeling a little stupid.

But brave, too. Brave enough to lift his hands and put them on McCoy's hips.

McCoy's smile only gets wider as he puts his own hands on Scotty's shoulders. “Give me your right hand.”

Scotty does, and McCoy uncaps the lube and pours some onto Scotty’s cupped palm. He then guides Scotty's hand back over his hip and down. It's obvious what he wants. Scotty smears lube over McCoy's hole and his fingers. It's thick silicone- McCoy really did know what he was going for.

His first finger goes in with little resistance.

“I'm no monk,” McCoy says when Scotty looks up, startled.

No, according to the rumors- rumors Scotty had previously dismissed- he isn't.

Scotty adds a second finger, and McCoy rolls his hips, his half-hard cock pressing against Scotty's. Scotty's fingers sink deep into McCoy’s ass as he does. Crooking his fingers, Scotty goes for McCoy's prostate. He gets a low groan when his fingers hit it, and McCoy's hands tighten their grip on Scotty's shoulders. Scotty does it again, just to hear that sound once more, and McCoy obligingly makes it.

Scotty keeps scissoring McCoy open, his eyes drawn down to where McCoy's hard cock is lightly leaking onto Scotty's. It's a good sized cock, long and thick and flushed red. If only Scotty had another hand, he'd gladly have it wrapped around around him, but as it is, he isn't about to take his fingers out of McCoy's ass or release his grip on McCoy's hip.

Besides, he's almost certain he can make McCoy come just from getting fingered, and if that's a possibility, Scotty needs to see it through.

McCoy dips his head for a soft kiss, which Scotty meets happily.

“You don't have to be so gentle,” McCoy says when they part.

Scotty flushes. “I dinnae want tae hurt ye.”

Mccoy favors him with a smile. “You're a long way from that, Scotty.”

“If it's what ye want, though, then aye, I can be a bit rough with ye.”

And that's all the warning he gives before he pushes his fingers in hard, aiming right for McCoy's prostate.

“Fuck!”

McCoy’s entire body jerks, his hips driving forward, rolling that gorgeous cock of his against Scotty's. He lets out a low moan as he does and bumps his cheek against Scotty's. “Do that again.”

Scotty does, gladly. And again and again, roughly moving his fingers in and out of McCoy until he’s got the good doctor writhing in his lap and gasping and pushing back against Scotty’s wrist.

He goes for another kiss; this one is sloppy, more a wet drag of lips than a proper kiss. He lingers there, his face pressed to Scotty’s, until, with one final hard press of Scotty’s fingers, he comes with a breathy moan.

He slumps over, his head falling onto Scotty’s shoulder. He stays like that, breathing hard and clutching at Scotty's shoulders, for a long time.

Eventually Scotty remembers he probably ought to take his fingers out, which gets him a grunt.

“Sorry!”

McCoy sighs. “Scotty, you just got me off. Why are you apologizing?”

“Well, that noise didn't sound too thrilled…”

“I assure you,” McCoy says, straightening up, “I’m nothing less.” As if to prove it, he kisses Scotty long and deep. When they pull apart, he adds, “And now, I think I promised I'd blow you.”

Scotty swallows hard.

 

**ii. Uhura**

“You,” Gaila says around a mouthful of chocolates, “need to get laid.”

Nyota sighs and takes a chocolate from her friend’s open palm. “I’d argue with you, but honestly, I think you’re right.”

“I’m always right.”

They’re hanging out in Nyota’s hotel room, enjoying the first night of a weeklong shore leave on earth. They don’t get to see each other nearly often enough on the ship- Nyota doesn’t get to see any other women often enough on the _Enterprise_. Most of the time it’s Nyota and a bunch of men. Men she loves, sure, but still. Men.

It’s nice to hang out in her underwear and a ratty t-shirt with someone who’s also barely dressed and gorging herself on chocolate.

“Any chance you want to apply that skill to finding me somebody to sleep with?” Nyota asks, more to have something to say than any actual interest.

Gaila actually considers it for a while, though, chewing thoughtfully as she does. “Depends on what you’re looking to do. I can think of a number of men who’d be good for you.”

Nyota raises her eyebrows. “I just want to get fucked, Gaila.”

“Do you? Because I’ve got to say, Nyota, if you just wanted a lay, you wouldn’t need my help.”

“I didn’t say I _need_ it-”

“You did with your face.” Gaila pops another chocolate into her mouth. “You want something specific, and the sooner you admit that, the sooner I can find you someone.”

If anyone can help, Gaila can. It’s not even that wild a thing. It’s just… Nyota has never admitted to wanting to try this before.

Still, if she wants to do this, she’s going to have to open up.

“Come on,” Gaila encourages. “I’m very discreet.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” Nyota hedges.

“Then there’s no reason to hold back!”

“I swear, if you make me feel weird about this-”

“Nyota, please.”

“Okay, fine.” Looking down at her hands, Nyota says, as normally as she can, “Pegging.”

Gaila hums thoughtfully for a moment before she snaps her fingers. “Oh, I know! You should talk to McCoy.”

Nyota, who had just taken a bite of a chocolate, chokes. “McCoy?” she echoes, voice rising in disbelief. “As in, Leonard McCoy? Jim’s oldest friend? Our CMO?”

“Do you know any other McCoys?”

“I can’t ask him!”

Gaila frowns. “Why not?”

“Because!”

“That’s not really an answer.”

Nyota’s face heats. “How do you even know he’s into it? I’m sure there’s all sorts of rumors about him considering he’s so close to Jim.”

“Well, I did fuck his ass myself,” Gaila says, voice flat. “I’ve still got the toy I used on him if you want to see.”

“No thanks,” Nyota says quickly.

“Didn’t think you would.” Gail's gives her a flash of a smile. “He sought me out, you know. Came prepared with an argument and a nice bottle of bourbon. And I've got to say, I don't regret saying yes.”

Nyota sighs and flops back against the floor. “Yeah, but that happened while we were at the Academy, didn't it?” Gaila hums. “Things are different now.”

“Of course they are. That doesn't mean you can't give it a try.”

“No, but it might put him in a weird position…”

This time, it's Gaila who sighs. “You humans overcomplicate everything, you know that? You want to try pegging. He clearly enjoys getting pegged. Just ask him.”

Nyota bites her lip. _If only it were that simple._

 

**_xx_ **

 

It takes her three days to work up the nerve to ask. She asks Leonard to come see her in her room at the hotel and, heart in her throat, settles in to wait.

Leonard arrives exactly on time. Nyota lets him in, taking in the way his worn leather jacket stretches across his shoulders and the way his thighs fill out his jeans.

Drawing her eyes up to his face, Nyota bites her cheek. If this doesn't go well, she's not sure they can recover.

Even if it does go well, she isn't sure things will be all right.

“Bourbon?” she offers, pointing out the bottle she bought on the first day of panic.

Leonard snorts. “Nyota, I know why you called me.”

She freezes. “You do?”

He nods, a smile quirking up one side of his lips. “Gaila called me, laid it all out.”

Well, that's… convenient. A little annoying, too- Nyota can handle things on her own.

That said, she can't help but feel relieved that she won't have to have that awkward conversation. And Leonard did show up, so he must have some interest.

He walks over to the bottle and picks it up, letting out a low whistle when he reads the label. “Somebody didn't hold back.”

Nyota shifts in embarrassment. For the first time in a long time, she doesn't know what to say.

Leonard doesn't share the affliction. He puts the bottle back down and turns toward her, another small smile lifting his lips. “I already got ready,” he says softly. “Hope you don't mind.”

Nyota shakes her head. She hadn't really thought about that. Well, she had. A little. But her fantasies usually just jump right to the pegging.

She bites her tongue for a moment before she gathers her courage and asks, “Can I feel?”

His smile gets wider. “Anything you want. I'm yours for the time being.”

He unbuckles his belt and shimmies his jeans down his hips. She watches, rapt, as he strips off his boots and his socks, then tugs his jeans off. His legs are long and muscular, the muscles bunching and stretching as he dresses down unselfconsciously.

When he straightens up, he quirks a brow at her.

She feels her hackles rise. “What?”

“You need to relax,” he says bluntly. “This is supposed to be fun, Nyota. It's just you and me.”

And that's the issue, isn't it? The thing Nyota has been obsessing over. The reason she's still hesitating.

“I'm not going to tell anyone,” Leonard continues, taking a step closer. “Least of all Jim.”

There's something about the way he's looking at her, something quiet and somber and genuine. She wants to believe him. She _does_ believe him.

He takes another step closer and holds out a hand, which she takes. He gently tugs her closer so she's standing a scant inch in front of him, then guides her hand over his hip. She sees where he's going and slips her hand free of his hold, sliding her hand over the gentle curve of his ass.

He arches into her touch.

She drags her hand up then dips her fingers under the waistband of his boxers. His breath hitches.

“If you're already prepped, I should be able to just…” She trails off as she lowers her hand, her middle finger quickly finding his wet hole and, after he nods, pressing in. His body gives around her easily, and she can't help but think of how different it feels from fingering herself- a thought that brings her attention to her own body, how clothed she still is and the feeling of getting wet.

She moves her finger idly, gently testing out how loose he is. She must hit his prostate, because Leonard arches his back and moans, his hips rolling.

“Good?” she asks.

He nods quickly, and after a moment, Nyota adds a second finger. She tries to hit his prostate again, and when she does, he spreads his legs and pushes his ass back against her fingers. So she adds a third finger, going carefully even though he had no problem taking the first two.

He sighs when she slips the third into him, his hands coming up to hold her hips as she scissors her fingers.

“You really like this, don't you?” she breathes.

Leonard laughs, a little breathless. “I'll get off from it if keep going. Not that I mind, but Gaila did tell me you had something bigger in mind.”

He's right. She does have something bigger in mind. She's been itching to try this for so long, she's actually taken to keeping the toy in her bag when she boards the _Enterprise_.

Still, she can't help but feel a pang of regret when she pulls her fingers free.

“Boxers off,” she says as she turns away. “And get on the bed.”

His grin is almost audible as he says, “Yes, ma'am.”

The springs creak as he hops up and arranges himself. Nyota forces herself not to wonder about how he looks; she'll find out soon enough once she's gotten herself ready.

Her hands shake as she opens her bag and fumbles with the harness. It takes ages for her to get the straps right.

Once she has everything set, she turns to face the bed.

Leonard is on his back, propped up slightly by some pillows. His long legs are drawn up to his chest, his cock lying hard against his belly. He's got one hand fisted around the base, but his eyes are on her.

“You coming?”

She nods and hurries to join him, only just remembering to grab the travel size bottle of lube as she goes.

“You can take it, right?” she asks as settles herself between his ankles. “I don't have another.”

“It’ll fit just fine,” he assures her. “If you wouldn't mind actually putting it in me, though, that would be great.”

“Just let me slick this up...”

Everything feels too loud. The sound of the bottle opening. Her hand on the toy. The bottle closing. Her heartbeat in her ears.

She isn't looking at Leonard’s face. She can't.

Instead, she concentrates on lining up the tip of the bright pink dildo and pushing it in.

She watches, unable to blink, as his body opens for it, the toy disappearing into him. She doesn't push in all the way at first. She goes in a few inches, then pulls out a little. Leonard moans, and that's what brings her attention to his face. His eyes are half shut, his lips parted. His breath is coming fast.

She presses back in, and his hips jerk, pushing the toy deeper than she intended.

“Oh!”

Leonard merely groans and lets his head fall back.

Out of curiosity, Uhura reaches up and pinches one of his nipples.

Leonard twitches. “Fuck!”

“You like that?” Nyota asks.

He opens one eye fully, his voice pissy as he says, “Obviously.”

There he is, the cranky pain in the ass Nyota has come to know so well. She'd been wondering where he went. It's comforting, in an odd way, to see this side of him now.

“So,” she says slowly as she shifts back, “is this something you do often?”

“It's not uncom- Shit!” Leonard curses as Nyota drives her hips forward, finally coming flush with his ass. “I don't do it a lot,” he says in a rush. “Not with women, anyway.”

Nyota feels her brows creep up her forehead but doesn't ask.

“You do like it, though. You like getting fucked.”

He huffs a laugh. “What can I say? It's a good feeling, one I don't get to indulge as much as I'd like.”

She wants to know why, but again, she doesn't ask. They're friends, if somewhat distant ones. But that's all. They're just friends who, as of now, fucked once.

Setting a pace that's just a little rough, she lets her attention wander, her eyes taking in the sight of Leonard McCoy spread out for her.

Besides the perfect sight of his ass stretched around the dildo, she can't help but be drawn to his nipples. One is still in her hold, so she gives it a squeeze, and Leonard twitches again.

She bites her cheek and looks down at his cock. It's still hard, the tip dark and red. She wants it in her mouth, wants to know how Leonard tastes. He must be dying for some sort of touch, but other than a few twitches of his hips, he doesn't encourage her to do anything for him.

Somehow, that makes her want to touch him more.

“Hey, Leonard?”

He grunts.

“Can I touch you?”

His answer is a strangled laugh. “Nyota, you can do whatever the hell you want with me, so long as you don't stop fucking me.”

“I don't intend to.”

And with that, she reaches out and takes his cock in her hand. He groans when her fingers close around him and starts to pant when she rubs her thumb across the head. His hips jerk, and on a whim, she drives her own hips into him.

His hands fist the sheets, and his head lolls back. She watches the long line of his throat as she drives into him. She's never thought of him as delicate before, but the way he's lying back, unable to do anything but take what she gives him…

His mouth is curled up in the corners, something she's watching so closely she doesn't realize he's arching off the bed until he moans and one of his hands latches onto the hand she has on his cock.

“I'm close,” he pants. “Fuck, I'm so fucking close- Don't stop. Don't you dare stop.” His breaths come sharper, his thumb pushing hers harder against the head of his dick.

Nyota’s head is swimming. Watching Leonard fall apart is one hell of a trip, and as she listens to the short, bitten-off moans he makes when she drives in just right, the feeling only intensifies. She's seen him when his emotions are running high and when he's been run so ragged he can barely stand, but she's never seen him like this. Open and vulnerable and almost… soft.

On a whim, Nyota leans forward and presses a quick, sloppy kiss against McCoy's lips. She starts to lean away, only for him to follow, those sharp eyes of his gone hazy.

She swipes her thumb all the way across the head of his cock, and he tenses up. His eyes don't leave her, though.

They stay trained on her until he finally comes, his eyes scrunching shut and a low groan filling the room.

She doesn't release him right away, doesn't even stop moving. He doesn't complain, just lets out something like a whimper as he falls back into the pillows. His chest is heaving, his breath coming hard and fast.

Nyota has never seen anyone like him.

And, she’ll think later, when he's got his face between her legs, she never will again.

 

**iii. Chekov**

McCoy finds him curled up on his bed in his quarters.

“You,” he says as he settles by Pavel’s feet, “tried to skip out on your post-mission physical.”

Pavel winces. He knew the doctor would be angry when he didn't show up, but the thought of being poked and prodded under those harsh lights in Medical… He knew he had to risk the doctor’s ire.

“I am sorry, Doctor. I did not mean to-”

“Bullshit. You just came off a bad mission, and you didn't want to go to Med Bay.”

Pavel winces again. “I meant no disrespect…”

McCoy sighs. “Chekov, I'm not angry. I'm concerned. I don't expect you to be fine, but I do need to make sure you aren't hurting yourself worse.”

“By being in my room?”

“You'd be surprised. Or maybe you wouldn't.” He pats Pavel’s ankle. “I’ve looked after Jim for years, you know. I've learned not to underestimate the creativity of an unhappy mind.”

“My mind is not unhappy,” Pavel objects.

McCoy quirks one of his eyebrows. “I know what happened on the planet. I was down there, too. It's normal to feel out of sorts after what happened. It's normal to want some way to make everything feel like it's all right.”

Pavel bites his lip. Everyone knows Doctor McCoy as the brash, emotional side of Captain Kirk. He's usually angry about something, always grumbling and cursing under his breath. But Pavel has liked him from the start. There's an openness to the doctor that not many men have. He's easy to predict- and he knows as much, Pavel would guess.

Perhaps that's why, in combination with his soft surgeon’s hands and sharp features, Pavel has harbored a crush on him since they first met.

It's been more than five years since then, and somehow, Pavel hasn't been able to shake his crush.

He sits up slowly, reluctantly pulling his legs out from under McCoy’s touch. He doesn't miss the contact for long. McCoy relocates his hand to Pavel’s shoulder a moment later.

Pavel doesn’t know why he does it. One minute, he’s flinching away from McCoy. The next, he’s got a hand fisted in McCoy’s shirt and is pulling him close, opening his mouth for a desperate kiss he hadn’t even known he wanted.

McCoy doesn’t push him away immediately. He lets Pavel have his kiss before those hands are gently putting distance between them. “It’s common, you know,” he says softly, his thumbs rubbing circles against Pavel’s shoulders. “Something bad happens and we want reassurance that it’s over, that we made it through.”

“I do not understand-”

“What’s happening in your head,” McCoy explains patiently. “It feels like a mess, doesn’t it?”

Pavel nods.

“Typical human response. You don’t have to worry about it. We’ll chalk that up to stress and-”

“I do not want to chalk it up to stress.” Pavel’s hands are still fisted in McCoy’s shirt. He forces himself to let go. “I have wanted you for a very long time, Doctor.”

McCoy tilts his head. “You’ve been keeping secrets.”

“Some things… they are just for me.”

“Understandable.”

“I know you do not feel the same.”

“And yet?”

“And yet I want you all the same,” Pavel says with a sigh.

McCoy chuckles and lifts a hand to tilt Pavel’s chin up. “You’ll get over me.”

Pavel doesn't doubt that. That doesn't mean he’s happy about enduring the time until then. “You won't leave me here on my own, will you?”

“I wasn't planning on it, no.”

Something unclenches in Pavel’s chest. He has the start of an idea. It’s reckless and has a high probability of blowing up in his face, but you don’t make it on the _Enterprise_ if you can’t take risks.

He puts a hand flat on McCoy’s chest. McCoy doesn’t resist, merely studies him, eyes sharp.

Pavel leans in slowly. McCoy doesn't move away. He must see this kiss coming. He must.

He kisses back after a moment. Soft and sweet, nothing like the kisses Pavel usually gets from one night stands or the rare, fleeting relationship. McCoy even puts a hand on Pavel’s face, cupping his cheek.

When they pull apart, Pavel stares at McCoy’s lips. He kissed those. They kissed him back.

“I want more,” Pavel blurts.

McCoy nods. “Thought you might.” He gets to his feet. “Come on, then. We’re not getting off with our pants on.”

It's as simple as that. Pavel watches as McCoy methodically strips off his uniform, unable even to think of doing the same. He shifts a little, feeling himself getting hard in his pants.

Any other time and he would dread this. His physicals are always exercises in dread, his fear of giving himself away burning in every atom as McCoy touches and prods at him, even under Med Bay’s harsh, unforgiving lights.

His quarters are lit softly.

“You just gonna sit there and watch?” McCoy asks when he finishes. He puts his hands on his hips, unselfconscious before Pavel. And why should he be? His body is firm and well-shaped, and his cock-

Pavel swallows hard.

McCoy sits down gently beside him and holds out a hand.

Pavel takes it immediately, and McCoy smiles softly.

Pavel has never wanted anyone the way he wants McCoy. Where is he supposed to start?

McCoy must recognize that Pavel’s overwhelmed. “You can touch me, you know,” he says, guiding Pavel’s hand to his chest. “I know you know how.”

Honesty with the medical staff is rule one of staying alive in space. Pavel has confessed every one of his adventures to McCoy- his ears had burned as he did, and he'd stared at the space just beyond McCoy’s ear as he spoke, but he had been honest.

In truth, Pavel hasn't actually been with a lot of people, human or otherwise- let alone someone he's wanted for so long.

Still, he has to do something, so he fans out his fingers, splaying his palm out across McCoy’s warm skin. He isn't very hairy, but there is a trail of dark, coarse hair that leads down from his navel to the dark curls at the base of his cock.

Pavel slowly slides his hand down McCoy's chest, then his belly, not stopping until he can rub his thumb along that trail of hair.

McCoy sighs happily, and Pavel feels a wave of concern wash over him.

“Doctor?”

McCoy hums.

“I've never- This is the first time- Men aren't- I'm not sure I can- What do you want?”

The hand on Pavel’s face guides him close for another kiss.

“That's good,” McCoy tells him. “We can keep doing that if you like.”

Pavel wants more than that. He wants to feel every bit of McCoy, wants to know what he tastes like and what sorts of sounds he makes. He wants to leave his mark on the doctor.

“And if I want to do more than that?” he asks curiously.

McCoy shrugs. “You're in charge here, Pavel.”

In that case, Pavel gently pushes him onto his back. McCoy goes willingly, even if both of his eyebrows do quirk up.

Pavel straddles him quickly, bringing his half-hard cock to rest against McCoy's. “There is one thing I would like to feel…”

“Name it.”

Pavel doesn't know the word for what he wants. So he demonstrates, rolling his hips and rubbing his clothed cock along the length of McCoy’s.

McCoy's breath hitches, and his hands snap to Pavel's hips. “Bottle,” he orders.

Pavel doesn't need to be told what kind of bottle. He knows McCoy knows what everyone knows about twenty-somethings with dicks- they're never far from a bottle of lotion.

It's a matter of seconds to crawl over and grab the bottle from the bedside table. Pavel feels McCoy's eyes on him every second of it.

He pauses a moment to strip down, tossing his clothes away carelessly. He can't help but flush as he does, suddenly self-conscious in a way he hasn't been in years. But there's nothing but heat in McCoy’s eyes as he watches Pavel straddle his thighs.

The lotion is cold when it hits his palm, so Pavel rubs it in a little, warming it with his hands before he takes himself in one hand and McCoy in the other.

He watches McCoy's eyes fall shut, hears him groan at the feeling of Pavel's hand stroking him.

“It's good?” Pavel asks.

McCoy huffs a laugh, eyes half-shut. “Don't play that game with me. You know it is.”

True, but this is Leonard McCoy. Everything needs to be the best it can be.

Pavel bites his lip as he slowly moves his hands, unable to look away from the way his fist is fitted around McCoy’s cock. McCoy seems content with this, his hands returning to Pavel's hips where his thumbs trace lightly over the crests of bone.

This is more than Pavel ever expected, but now that he's gotten it, he wants more. Shifting closer, he releases his grip on them so he can press his cock directly against McCoy's.

McCoy's breath hitches when he does, the grip on Pavel’s hips tightening. His eyes fall the rest of the way shut, and his breath hitches.

“Good?” Pavel asks again.

McCoy nods sharply. He rolls his hips slowly, moving the hot line of his cock against Pavel’s. The feeling is intense, makes it hard to think. Pavel has wondered about the this, even dreamed of it, but he never thought…

He should have found someone to practice with. Maybe if he had, it would take more than a few more slow rolls of McCoy's hips to bring Pavel off.

He comes with a gasp of surprise- he knew he was close, but he hadn't thought he was _that_ close.

He slumps over, unsteady arms bracketing McCoy's head.

McCoy gently tugs him down so Pavel is stretched out on top of him with his head on McCoy's chest. McCoy puts his arms around Pavel’s back, holding him loosely.

And that's when Pavel realizes he's crying. He quickly makes to wipe at the tears, but McCoy catches his wrists.

“Let it out,” he says softly.

“But you-”

“I’m fine.” He releases one hand to run it through Pavel’s hair, petting him. “There's no hurry, Pavel. I can stay as long as you need.”

Pavel nods silently, concentrating on evening out his breathing. McCoy is firm under him, his body soft and warm and more reassuring than Pavel would have thought it could be. Even the fact that his cock is still hard where it's sandwiched between them makes something in Pavel’s chest loosen.

They should clean up- Pavel should either get McCoy off or let him leave to do it himself- but they stay as they are. Pavel lets his eyes fall shut as he breathes McCoy in, and McCoy strokes his back, murmuring unintelligible things that nonetheless make Pavel relax against him.

Pavel doesn't mean to fall asleep. He hadn't even thought he could. But he does.

And when he wakes up, hours later, McCoy is still there, still holding him, fast asleep himself. Pavel smiles to himself and happily lets his mind drift off again, silently resolving to finish what they started.

 

**iv. & v. Ben and Hikaru**

Hikaru watches Ben slide his cock into Leonard’s waiting mouth, Leonard's head already tilted to the side.

Blowjobs have never really been Hikaru’s thing, but from the look of it- and the sounds of it- they're definitely Leonard’s. He has a hand on Ben’s hip, urging him to push in deeper, and Ben does, going deeper and deeper until his cock disappears completely and Leonard's face is pressed flat against him.

Ben looks up after a second, away from Leonard and over at Hikaru. He looks unsure, but then, he would be. Hikaru never told him about Leonard’s well-earned reputation.

Jim may spend the most time in beds other than his own, but Leonard isn't far behind- and Leonard is the one who never does repeats. You sleep with him, you get one shot at it.

“Feels good, right?” Hikaru asks.

Ben nods quickly.

Leonard moves his hips impatiently, fucking himself on the fingers Hikaru has buried in his ass.

“I know, I know,” Hikaru tells him, struggling to keep his voice calm. He's been watching his husband tease Leonard's mouth, only letting him have a little of a cock Hikaru knows so well as Hikaru carefully opens Leonard's body.

They have Leonard on his back on their bed. There's a red flush running from his head down his torso. It doesn't quite reach his cock where it's lying against his belly, thick and wet at the tip.

Hikaru reaches down and lightly runs two fingers up from Leonard's balls to the head of his cock. Leonard moans around Ben’s cock, drawing a shiver from Hikaru’s husband.

Demora is spending the night with Ben’s parents. Originally it was to give Ben and Hikaru a calm night in, but then they found themselves at a bar. And at that bar had been a familiar face.

Hikaru isn't entirely certain why he brought up to Ben the idea of bringing Leonard into their bed. Nor is he sure why Ben, rather than brushing him off, walked over to Leonard and, after a few moments, brought him over to Hikaru.

“Let's go home,” he said.

And they did.

Hikaru takes a deep breath, steadying himself, before he lines himself up and pushes in.

Leonard moans again, tilting his hips, and Hikaru watches Ben tighten his grip on Leonard's hair.

Hikaru settles when he's fully seated inside Leonard; he can't help but look down at where Leonard is stretched tight around his cock. Hikaru has to take a few more steadying breaths, breathing shakily through his nose.

Pressure on his shoulder makes him look up. Ben’s hand is comforting on his shoulder, as much an anchor as the warm light in his eyes.

“You still with us?” he asks.

Hikaru nods. “I'm here.”

“Then we ought to get going- I think our third wheel is getting impatient.”

Sure enough, when Hikaru looks down, Leonard is glaring up at them. The effect is slightly marred by the way his mouth is full and he's started to drool, but it's a glare nonetheless.

“I don't know,” Hikaru drawls. “I kind of thought we'd keep him here like this for a while.”

Leonard's eyes go wide, but Ben snorts. “You and I both know we don't have the patience for that.”

And with that, he pulls back a little, then pushes back in.

Leonard's eyes fall shut, and Hikaru hears him groan.

Ben has a point. And Leonard clearly wants to get fucked sooner than later, so Hikaru follows Ben’s lead. He pulls out far enough that only the tip is still inside, then snaps his hips forward.

Leonard makes an incredible noise, and Hikaru quickly repeats the action.

Ben isn't quite as deliberate. He moves in and out of Leonard's mouth swiftly; Hikaru can't figure out whether he should watch Leonard’s mouth taking it or the incredible flex of Ben’s ass as he moves.

Hikaru swallows and tries to refocus on what he's doing. Usually he bottoms, but between Leonard preferring to do the same and Ben saying he'd like to watch Hikaru do the heavy lifting “for once”, Hikaru wound up on this side of things. Not that he minds. Leonard's body feels incredible, the way he moves with Hikaru and clenches just right.

“Fuck,” Hikaru breathes, pushing in harder than he probably should.

Leonard merely pushes back, the heels digging into Hikaru’s back pressing in harder.

Lifting his hands from where they've been braced on the bed, Hikaru takes hold of Leonard’s hips. Leonard lets him do it, lets his legs slide off Hikaru’s back and fall open.

Ben is fucking Leonard's mouth hard; Hikaru can see the low light catching on a trail of drool sliding down Leonard’s chin. But Leonard isn't fighting it. Every noise he makes is pleased or begging, and Hikaru doesn't hesitate to drive into him hard.

The bed creaks loudly, but the only people around to hear are the ones making it do that.

Hikaru reaches up with one hand and takes Leonard in hand as he drives into him. Leonard makes a sound that Hikaru can't hear, muffled as it is by Ben’s cock.

It isn't easy to keep a steady rhythm as he fucks Leonard, but Hikaru does try. It must work well enough, because Leonard is the first to come.

His body clenches around Hikaru as Leonard spills over his own belly and Hikaru’s hand, and Hikaru only fucks him harder, his own orgasm building in his belly.

Ben still beats him to it, tugging Leonard's head against him and coming with a shout. Hikaru can't look away, can't see anything but the way Ben trembles as he slowly stop thrusting into Leonard’s mouth.

Breath stuttering, he still manages to turn towards Hikaru and say, “Hurry up, would you?”

It's a joke between them, a reminder of the frantic fucks they'd had in the beginning of their relationship.

Hikaru doesn't last long enough for Ben to say it a second time.

Finished, he pulls out, too, then leans forward for a kiss.

Under them, Leonard’s heavy breaths have turned into snores, and Hikaru gives Ben a half-shrug. They hadn't talked about what would happen after, and they may as well let him stay. The bed is plenty big enough after all, and hey- maybe they'll get lucky and he’ll let them have a second round.

 

**vi. Jaylah**

It took her two, almost three, years, but Jaylah finally did it.

She finally got Leonard into her bed.

Her roommate and James T. will be here any minute, though, so as much as she would like to take her time with this, she can't.

He's spread out under her, his hands still clutching at the headboard like she told him to. He isn't even naked- his shirt has ridden up a little, his sweats and boxers pushed down just far enough for her to get what she wants- but then neither is she. It's a rare day off, and she knew what she was going to do, so Jaylah put on her flimsiest thong- now pushed to the side- and shortest skirt- now shoved halfway up her torso.

She's wanted him since he and James T. first visited her on campus. James T. had been dressed in jeans and a worn leather jacket, but Leonard had been wearing a white t-shirt and a pair of gray, Starfleet issue sweatpants that had left nothing to the imagination.

It wasn't the last time he wore them, and Jaylah spent a good amount of time thinking about stripping him and getting her hands on what she knew had to be a thick cock.

It was unthinkable that no one else seemed to care when she could barely wait until he left to touch herself. He is a solid man, with nice arms, long legs, and a funny way of acting around her- always holding doors and offering her his arm as if she needed help.(James T. told her this was an Earth thing and that Leonard was trying to be nice.) It only made her want him more.

Her tactic for getting him was simple. She had her roommate- a pretty Earth woman on the command track- distract James T. Then she asked Leonard to take a look at something in her room. Once she got him inside, she told him that she wanted him.

Somehow, he agreed without a fight.

And now she's kneeling on her bed, stretched around his cock, her fingers working her clit as fast as she can, trying to finish before her roommate arrives with James T.

They're both breathing hard. There's a hitch in Leonard's voice that tells her he's getting close, which is good, because so is she, and they really do need to be quick.

“Let me?” he asks, looking meaningfully at where her fingers are squeezing her clit.

She hesitates- she knows what she likes, and she's doing it- but ultimately decides to let him try. She can always knock his hand away if he's no good.

He pushes his thumb against her clit, hard, instead of brushing it like she usually does, and Jaylah’s entire body twitches. She scrambles to grab something and ends up with a hand in his hair.

“Do that again,” she orders, and he does, this time dragging the pad of his thumb in a rough circle afterwards and drawing a loud moan from her. “You keep doing that,” she says, pushing her hips against his finger as best she can. “You do not stop, Leonard. You hear me? You do not stop.”

He smiles. “I hear you.”

Wisely, he doesn't stop.

She looks down her body, mesmerized by the sight of the tendons in his arm working as he works her.

She loses track of time, everything falling away as she gets closer and closer and finally, with a shout she means to muffle but doesn't quite manage to, feels the burn in her belly shudder out, her orgasm sweeping through her body and leaving her limp.

She doesn't let herself give into the urge to lie down. Instead she shakes her head and straightens her spine.

“You are not done,” she tells Leonard.

He nods.

“You will not stop until you finish- and I have had a second orgasm. You understand?”

He nods again, and this time, his smile is sharp.

 

**vii. Spock**

Spock learned much during his time on Earth. The intricacies of human interaction, the unchecked power of emotion, the lengths to which that emotion will drive humans...

He has also learned that his own curiosity can have much the same effect. Knowing that he is capable of doing things he would not typically do in order to satisfy his curiosity is not enough to prevent him from allowing that curiosity to drive him, however.

Thus, his presence in Dr. McCoy's office.

Leonard, as Spock has taken to calling him, is regarding Spock with both brows raised. This is sometimes a sign of impending antagonism. Given the circumstances, however, Spock is certain the expression merely conveys disbelief. Or perhaps the doctor’s own curiosity.

“You want me to do what?” Leonard asks.

Spock gives him a flat look. “You heard me the first time, Leonard.”

“Yeah, but I want to make sure I'm not hearing things.”

“Very well then. I wish to engage in sexual intercourse with you.”

Leonard blinks. “That's what I thought you said.”

“May I have your answer?”

“I don't think I've picked one yet.” Leonard tilts his head, eyes narrowing. “Why me?”

“Firstly, as I have already experienced Nyota’s genitalia, I wish to engage in intercourse with someone with different genitalia. You are, I believe, equipped with those. Secondly, I am aware of your level of promiscuity. You are unlikely to deny my request for intercourse. Thirdly, I find you attractive.”

Leonard’s brows creep back down to their normal places, but his mouth quirks into a smile. “Why, Spock, if you wanted to fuck me, you should have just led with that.”

Spock shifts in his chair, uncomfortable. “As I said, this is not about ‘fucking’, as you put it. It is an experiment, and I require a reliable partner to conduct it.”

“Sure you do.”

“Yes, that is why I said so,” Spock says, forehead pinching.

Leonard huffs a laugh. “Of course. How much time do we have?”

“Pardon?”

“Your little experiment- how much time do we have to do it?”

Spock’s stomach twists. He had not expected such a ready agreement. “You intend to do it now?”

“Nobody's here except you and me,” Leonard points out. “Seems like as good a time as any. Unless you'd rather not?”

“No,” Spock says quickly. “The sooner I have my results, the better.”

“Sounds good.”

And with that, Leonard gets up and walks around the desk.

Spock remains seated.

Leonard sighs. “You're not gonna make this easy, are you? Up you get, broccoli dick.”

“I fail to see the resemblance between my genitalia and a vegetable-” Spock frowns and remains seated. “Unless you are referring to the color, in which case, I must remind you- as you must recall from your studies- that the Vulcan member is not-”

“Please don't say ‘member’ when I'm about to suck your dick.”

Spock swallows the rest of his sentence. “You intend to perform-”

“I swear, Spock, if you say ‘fellatio’, I will change my mind about this.” Leonard quirks a brow at him, obviously waiting for Spock to choose a response.

Clearing his throat, Spock says, “Understood.”

Leonard grins at him. “Well done. Now, come on. I need you to stand up.”

Spock does and immediately finds himself spun and around and backed up to Leonard's desk.

“Sit.”

Spock does.

“Good man,” Leonard says, coming to stand between Spock's knees. “Now, as much I'd love to give you the data you're looking for, I'm gonna need you to give me more information.”

“What do you require?”

“Well, you said you were after my dick, so I'm assuming you're gonna want to touch it.”

“Correct.”

“Anything else?” Spock hesitates, and Leonard rolls his eyes. “This is just an experiment, Spock. It's science. You've got to be able to articulate what you're after.”

When put like that… “I would like to- in your words- ‘suck’ you. If you are amenable.”

“I am. Anything else?”

Spock shakes his head. He had initially thought to inquire after the possibility of penetrative sex, but from the way his body is already lit up, he suspects he will not last long enough to perform adequately.

Leonard favors him with a genuine smile. “One blowjob it is.” He tilts his head, considering. “But we’ll make it a special one, what with it being for science.”

Spock frowns, not entirely convinced he likes the sound of that, but then Leonard is pressing closer and tilting his head for a kiss.

And Spock likes kisses, both human and Vulcan. He likes how soft Leonard's lips are and doesn't mind the taste of replicated coffee on Leonard's tongue. He likes the way Leonard leans into him, both of his talented hands coming up to rest on Spock's shoulders.

It's hardly the most intense kiss Spock has ever had, but he feels himself getting hard anyway, especially once Leonard drops a hand and begins running his thumb over Spock’s cock over his pants.

“You like that?” he asks, breaking the kiss.

Spock nods. “I have always admired your hands. They have admirable dexterity, especially for a huma-”

Leonard cuts him off by sliding his hand down the front of Spock's pants and under the waistband of his Starfleet issue briefs. He takes Spock's cock in hand, and Spock marvels at the softness of his hand. Even Leonard's fingers are uncalloused.

“Vulcan males do a fair amount of lubricating, don't they?” Leonard asks idly, moving his hand down Spock's shaft.

Spock nods, needing a moment to bite back a gasp as Leonard's palm moves over the sensitive head of his cock. “You are correct, Doctor. To ensure maximum ease of penetration, both sets of Vulcan genitalia lubricate plentifully.”

“That's handy, considering I don't feel like letting go to grab the lube.”

“Will you need it for fella- what you are going to do?”

“No, but if I'm remembering my xenobiology right, even outside of pon farr, it's better if you bastards get off more than once.”

“Correct. The ideal amount of ejaculations per act of coitus for a Vulcan male my age is three.”

“Let's hop to it, then, huh?”

Leonard smiles up at him and steals a quick kiss, which distracts Spock just long enough for Leonard to take his cock in hand and give him a firm tug.

Spock bites his cheek as Leonard slides his hand back up his shaft, then down again. “Leonard…”

“Yeah?”

“I have been… inactive for a while, as you know from my records.”

Leonard hums an acknowledgment.

“What you may not be aware of is the fact that Vulcans, like humans, are especially sensitive when time passes and we are not touched.”

“Jim been keeping you too busy to spend time with your hand?” Leonard asks, his intonation only partially joking.

Spock sighs and momentarily allows his mind to go blank, the feeling of Leonard's hand stroking him far more pleasurable than he had expected. He only allows it for a moment, though. Forcing himself to concentrate, he says, “Indeed. I have not had as much time for self-stimulation as I have in the past. Thus, my stamina is likely to be reduced.”

“Well, you can't fight biology, Spock,” Leonard says reasonably. “The body wants what the body wants. Although,” he adds thoughtfully, “I could recommend you spend more time off the bridge. If not getting yourself off is impeding your ability to work as it sometimes does for humans, well… As the ship’s doctor, it would be reckless of me not to make the recommendation.”

Spock tenses- or tries to. Leonard's hand does feel impossibly good. “You would tell the ship I am in need of more time to masturbate?”

“I wouldn't put it quite like that, no.” Leonard's voice is entirely amused now. “I'm sure I could think of a suitable euphemism.”

“I do not believe a euphemism exists that Jim could not untangle.”

“Ah, yes. Our dear, oversexed captain. You may have a point.”

“I always have a point- two, in fact, as you are so fond of noting.”

Rather than respond to the accusation, Leonard takes a firmer grip on Spock's cock and gives him a particularly rough tug, one that ends with him rubbing his thumb hard over the tip of Spock's cock.

Blindsided, Spock can't even think to try to stave off coming. He spills over Leonard's hand, making a mess inside his underwear as Leonard strokes him through it.

For a long moment, all Spock can do is squeeze his eyes shut and breathe, both of his hands gripping the edge of the desk hard enough to make his knuckles creak. He remains hard- even if he weren't certain of getting two more orgasms, his cock wouldn't soften for at least ten more minutes, an unfortunate biological “just in case”.

“You okay?” Leonard asks once Spock's breathing has evened out. He's lightly thumbing at Spock's cock, and it takes Spock a moment to remember he isn't supposed to rut mindlessly against Leonard's hand.

“I am well, Leonard. Thank you.”

“Well, that's the first one done with. Now, onto bigger and better things.”

He withdraws his hand and, after a moment's deliberation, lifts his blue science tunic up and wipes his hand on the black undershirt.

“Can you stand?”

Spock nods and straightens up, lifting his ass off the desk.

Leonard squints around the room, then glances at the floor. “You know what?” he says after a moment. “I'm too old for the floor. Good thing I'm not like Geoffrey and I keep a neat desk.”

It's true. Spock had previously assumed that someone as chaotic and emotional as Leonard would have a messy workspace, but as it is, Leonard's desk is bare save the PADDs stacked neatly on it. Leonard carefully takes them and puts them on the floor, then gets to work stripping down.

Spock watches him openly, and when Leonard catches him and raises a brow, he merely shrugs.

“You are not unattractive,” Spock explains.

Leonard snorts. “Careful, Spock. You're practically gushing.”

“I would never.”

When he's done, Leonard stands before Spock, completely bare. His body is firm, pleasantly muscular from his time in the gym, if less hairy than Spock had imagined. His cock is hard and oddly enticing.

It's only natural for Spock to reach out and touch it.

Leonard's breath hitches, and his eyes fall shut. As a human, the tip of his cock is not wet the way a Vulcan’s gets, and Spock has to be careful when he touches him not to be too rough.

“Easy there,” Leonard says when Spock reaches behind his balls to touch the sensitive spot he read so much about, voice unsteady. “I don't get three shots at this like you do.”

“Is that a no?” Spock asks, hesitating.

“No, it's a ‘take care’.”

Spock can live with that, so he only presses lightly against Leonard's perineum, just enough to satisfy him that doing so will make Leonard curse.

“I am curious to know what you have in mind next,” Spock says as he pulls away.

Leonard blinks stupidly at him for a moment before he shakes his head. “This way.” He walks back to his desk and, after a moment’s pause, hops up onto it. “Clothes off,” he orders. “Then you come here.”

Sensing that Leonard would not appreciate backtalk at the moment, Spock wordlessly skims off his clothes and joins Leonard.

“I'm gonna lie back,” Leonard explains. “You're gonna kneel over me facing the opposite direction. Try to get your face above my pelvis. Got it?”

“I do.”

Leonard nods sharply, then leans back so he's stretched out across his desk. Spock takes a moment to admire him before he climbs onto the desk. It takes him a moment to line himself up correctly, but he knows he's got it right when Leonard puts a hand on his hip.

“I'm gonna suck your dick now, and it would be nice if you decided to do your experiment and give things a go yourself.”

That said, Leonard's hand snakes up and presses Spock's hip down. Spock spreads his legs to make it easier. He knows what's coming, but he can't help drawing in a sharp breath at the first touch of Leonard's tongue.

He pushes his hips down, trying to get his cock into Leonard's mouth. He misses, but Leonard gamely takes over, guiding the head into his mouth and swallowing him down.

This is not a position Spock ever tried with Nyota. He was aware of it before now, but he never thought he would attempt it, least of all with Leonard.

Yet here they are.

Spock fumbles a little in getting his hand around Leonard's cock, but Leonard doesn't complain. He simply takes Spock deeper- a response that does nothing to make Spock's hands steadier.

Spock closes his eyes, resisting the urge just to look. Instead, he takes a careful lick. The taste is not particularly compelling, but it’s not unbearable.

He much prefers the way Leonard moaned. That was good, so he tries another lick.

He gets another moan and a pinch that makes him- not yelp, but make an unwilling noise of surprise.

Leonard pulls off and grouches, “I swear, if you're just going to tease-”

“I am merely gathering data,” Spock tells him evenly. “A good scientist is thorough.”

“I'll show you thorough,” Leonard mutters darkly.

That said, he slides Spock's cock back into his mouth, swallowing around it as he takes it even deeper than he had before, and Spock has to take a moment just to breathe.

When he's back in control, Spock refocuses on Leonard's cock. He tries licking at the shaft this time, which doesn't get quite as strong a reaction but, he can tell through his telepathy, feels good nonetheless. The feeling gives Spock the confidence to try to mimic Leonard's actions and take Leonard's cock into his mouth.

Initially, there isn't an issue, but once he takes Leonard in deep enough for things to become uncomfortable, he pulls off in distaste.

He feels Leonard’s laughter before he hears it.

“Not to your taste?” Leonard asks once his mouth is free, chuckling around the words.

“It is not,” Spock says. “I do not see how you gain pleasure from doing this.”

Leonard hums, actually giving the idea some thought. “Some people just don't like it,” he says after a moment.

Spock hesitates. “Do you wish for me to continue?”

“Not if you don't like it,” Leonard says, his tone heavily suggesting Spock should have known that. “You know what? I've got an idea.”

He maneuvers them so Spock is sitting on the edge of the desk and Leonard is kneeling between his thighs.

“You best pay attention,” Leonard tells him. “I don't kneel for just anybody anymore, and I'm damn well not doing it again on this floor.”

Spock nods quickly. He watches keenly as Leonard braces his hands on Spock's thighs and delicately swallows him down. His eyes flutter shut, his fingers digging in as he slowly takes Spock all the way. Spock looks down at him in wonder. The feeling of Leonard swallowing around him is disorienting, but what really gets to him is the sight of Leonard's soft lips, the lips Spock had kissed not long ago, stretched around his cock.

He touches a finger to them, feels the physical sensation of Leonard’s skin and the mental prickling of arousal. This is something Leonard genuinely enjoys doing. He finds the feeling of Spock in his mouth… pleasurable. He's content to stay as he is, nose buried in the hair at the base of Spock's cock, but there's another desire, too. He wants to make Spock feel good, wants to make Spock come.

“Leonard, I…”

Leonard narrows his eyes, and Spock gets the impression of Leonard raising his middle finger.

The response makes little sense but is a typically Leonard reaction.

As good as this feels, Spock is not unacquainted with blowjobs, and the desk is beginning to dig into his ass.

Fortunately for him, Leonard decides he's had enough and begins to bob his head. The office quickly fills with the wet sounds of Leonard working him over, and Spock forgets everything that isn't the feeling of Leonard’s mouth or the sight of his wet lips.

He stares, unblinking, as Leonard swallows around him, and he watches, rapt, as Leonard pulls off, only to rub one smooth cheek against Spock's cock, doing nothing to wipe away the trail of wetness it leaves behind before he takes it back into his mouth.

Spock swallows hard and, taking a risk, pushes a hand through Leonard's hair.

Leonard, whose eyes had fallen shut earlier, looks up at him, eyes half-open and gaze hot. He doesn't try to say anything, just curls a hand around the base of Spock's cock and strokes in time with the bobbing of his head.

The experiment, a voice in the back of Spock's mind says, is compromised.

Spock ignores it in favor of touching his thumb to Leonard's cheek just to feel himself through it.

Leonard rolls his eyes, but that's fine. Heat is pooling low in Spock's belly, and he knows he's close. His fingers tighten in Leonard's hair of their own accord, drawing a sharp look and a warning squeeze. Spock makes a conscious effort to release his grip, and Leonard obligingly doesn't bite him.

Spock doesn't think to pull away before comes. His mind is pleasantly blank, his awareness of Leonard limited to Leonard's own mental quietness as he focuses on the rhythm.

If he objects to swallowing, he keeps it from Spock.

“One more to go, huh?” Leonard asks as he leans back.

Spock nods. The point of this exercise has been lost, the data too overwhelming and garbled to be understood, but he finds himself reluctant to put an end to it.

“You have not yet achieved-”

Leonard puts a hand to Spock's lips. “This isn't about me, remember? It's about science.”

It is not, never truly was, and if Spock were as truthful as he claims to be, he would say so.

Instead, he takes in Leonard’s challenging expression. He knows the truth. Of course he does. As if Spock could fool him by claiming “science”.

Leonard gets to his feet slowly. He is still younger than he is old, but space has taken its toll on him as much as it has on the other humans- possibly even more.

Spock remains where he is, perched on the desk.

“Any preferences?” Leonard asks. “For your research?”

Resisting the urge to look away, Spock nods. “There is one thing I had hoped to try…”

Leonard's smile is knowing. “Name it.”

 

**i. Jim**

Jim knows about the others. Of course he does. He knows all the bridge officers- and more- on the _Enterprise_ have slept with Bones. And it's fine. There haven't been any fights over him or anyone giving anyone else the cold shoulder. Nobody's avoiding Medical.

It seems like Bones has the unique gift of being the perfect one night stand.

It's not as if Jim has been practicing abstinence. He's been with plenty of people, human and otherwise. And it's been good.

He can't fault Bones for wanting a break from the loneliness of space. And he doesn't fault him.

It's really not Jim’s business anyway.

There's just one issue. It's not even an issue, really. Just a quirk.

Bones never comes to him.

Of all the people Bones knows, of all the beds he could tumble into, Jim’s is obviously the safest. They've been friends for years. There's nothing that could mess them up. Certainly not a little roll in the hay. But Bones continues to flit from bed to bed- or other, more creative place- with everyone except Jim.

Maybe it's because Jim is his captain now. Spock may technically outrank Bones, but it's not as if Spock could ever make Bones do something he didn't want to do. That's the way their relationship works. But Jim… Jim is the ultimate authority in space.

Or, Jim admits to himself in the quiet of his quarters, maybe Bones remembers the night Jim ran away from him.

It was during their second year at the Academy. They'd been drinking from some secret stash of alien brew that packed a hell of a kick. Everybody had been hammered, including the people who'd smuggled the stuff in, and Jim and Bones, who tended to stick together anyway, wound up on some dark corner of someone's house. Somehow they went from leaning on each other and laughing about someone’s antics to making out. Jim crawled into Bones’ lap, and there was possibly a little hip rolling, a little manhandling, nothing too wild. Until Jim tried to get Bones to put his hands down Jim’s pants and Bones had frowned and Jim had done what Jim does best: hightailed it out of there.

They've never talked about it, but Jim is positive Bones remembers.

Because Jim has never been able to resist picking at things, he gives in one night and invites Bones over for some “bro time”. Bones raises both his brows when Jim suggests it- and sure, they haven't done this since the Academy, so maybe Bones is right to be skeptical- but he nods agreeably enough.

They’re best friends after all. Why wouldn't Bones want to come to Jim’s nicer quarters, drink some contraband alcohol, and hang out?

So Bones comes over, and he's looking as grumpy as he always does when he drops down onto Jim’s bed and holds out a hand.

Jim rolls his eyes but hands over a snifter.

Bones takes a careful sip, letting the whiskey sit on his tongue for a bit before he swallows. “Good,” he says approvingly, then takes another sip.

Jim picks up his own glass- along with the bottle- and sits down beside Bones, close enough for their shoulders to touch. Bones doesn't say anything about it, just lets out a happy sigh as the whiskey goes down.

They don't talk, which isn't unusual. Sometimes quiet is all Jim can bear. He doesn't want to think about their losses when he’s having a quiet moment with his best friend. He knows he'll get sucked under if he doesn't let go of the ghosts. And Bones seems to know that. He slings an arm around Jim's shoulders and tugs him in close, laying his head on top of Jim's.

He used to do it frequently back at the Academy, especially in the beginning of their first year. Jim would start to get that itchy, wrong-in-his-skin feeling, but before he could do anything stupid, Bones would coax him into some kind of one-armed hug or wrestle with him until Jim was breathing hard and pinning Bones to his dorm room floor. And somehow that would do it. Jim would squirm out of the hug or get to his feet feeling settled once more.

Bones has never mentioned how he knew to do that, and Jim has never been able to make himself ask.

They wind up cuddled together like usual, Jim with his head tucked Bones’ against Bones’ ribs and Bones running his fingers through Jim's hair as they make their way through the bottle. It feels good- better than good. Jim catches himself nodding off more than once and has to shake his head to refocus.

He invited Bones over for a reason.

He means to ask subtly. He means to slip beneath Bones’ guard. He means to make the conversation seem like Bones’ idea.

What he actually does is blurt, “Why don't you want to sleep with me?”

To his credit, Bones doesn't choke on his whiskey. He doesn't splutter or deny it or try to leave. He just swallows his mouthful and thinks for a long, uncomfortable moment before shrugging and asking, “What makes you think that?”

Jim's heart does a funny little stutter in his chest. “Well, we've never slept together.”

“It takes two to fuck, Jim,” Bones says, not unkindly. “I always figured if you wanted me, you'd say so.”

Which isn't unreasonable. Jim has never been shy about going after the people he wants. He's even slept with some of his other friends.

Jim sighs and lets his eyes fall closed. Bones doesn't stop petting him, and for a while, Jim just floats.

“I did go after you once, though,” he says. “When we were drinking that stuff that gave us all those wicked hangovers. I tried, and you didn't want me.”

“No, you were gyrating in my lap and I wanted to make sure you weren't blitzed out of your mind,” Bones says patiently. “I wasn't saying no, dipshit. I was trying to ask if you were sure.”

 _Ah._ That makes more sense than Bones suddenly thinking Jim is too dirty. In his own, grouchy way, Bones had been protective of Jim through their whole time at the Academy; the almost-fuck was just another example of that.

“Put my glass on the table?” Jim asks, holding it out.

Bones grunts but takes it. A moment later, Jim hears the soft thud of the glass being placed on the table.

“Is it true?” he hears himself ask.

“You're gonna have to be more specific.”

“There's a rumor about you, that you'll only sleep with someone once.”

Bones hums. “I've heard about that. It's not quite true- I give ‘em a night. What we do and how much we do it is up to them.”

“What if somebody wanted more than a night?”

“Well, they'd have to take me to dinner, I suppose,” Bones says thoughtfully. “A couple dinners. And we'd have to get along.”

Jim waits for the rest of the conditions, but none come. He fights the urge to sigh. And people say he's the easy one. “That's not a very high bar, Bones.”

“It's high enough. Most people don't enjoy my company like you do.”

There's a second thud, which Jim thinks must be Bones’ glass, followed by the Bones shifting, then a third thump- the bottle, probably.

The hand in Jim's hair doesn't pause as Bones’ other hand comes to rest on the hand Jim has lying on his belly. Jim always marvels at Bones’ hands. They're so steady and so soft. They've performed more medical miracles than anyone Jim's ever heard of, and they're only going to do more. He's seen them covered in every shade of blood- sometimes that blood has even been Jim’s own, Bones’ hands the only things standing between Jim and death.

Once, those hands even reached beyond death and ripped Jim back into the land of the living.

He's imagined those hands doing all sorts of other things.

Opening his eyes, he looks up into his best friend’s face. “Hey, Bones?”

“Yeah?”

“Will I lose you?”

Bones doesn't pretend he doesn't know what Jim means. He gives the question proper thought, mulling it over as his thumb traces over the ridge of Jim’s knuckle.

“I don't think you could lose me if you tried,” he says at last.

Something in Jim's chest unclenches. “Let me take you to dinner?” he asks. “I know a great place not far from here.”

They're in the middle of empty space with no contact expected for at least an earth month.

Bones snorts. “Pull some strings and get us our own table?”

“Of course,” Jim tells him, bringing up his free hand up to pat Bones’. “I’ll even dress up in my nicest gold top.”

“Yeah? In that case, I guess I'll wear that blue shirt you like so much.”

Jim laughs, and for the first time in a long time, it feels like he's gotten something just right.


End file.
